


Alone

by Fandom_Stuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Stuff/pseuds/Fandom_Stuff
Summary: Just a little something I wrote a long time ago, it's basically just John's thoughts while Sherlock was away and a sort of afterwards of Season 4.





	Alone

_ “SHERLOCK!” The scream wrenched itself out of his throat. The phone felt like dead weight in his hand as he started to make his way towards his friend. The sound of a body hitting the ground reached John's ears and a kind of sickness twisted his gut. He had only just started to move forward when he found himself being shoved to the pavement by a bicyclist. He regained his feet quickly and rushed to the scene. Blood coated the pavement. Thick, wet, and red. Sherlock lay sprawled on the pavement his curly dark hair drenched in blood. “I'm a doctor. Let me come through please. Let me come through. He's my friend. He's my friend.” The words came out of John's mouth in a choked sob, it sounded like someone else was speaking them.  He felt his knees give way beneath him. He felt around for Sherlock's hand and found his pulse point. There was nothing. Hands moved Sherlock onto a stretcher and more hands helped John stand. Sherlock was rolled away and then John was alone. Utterly alone. Alone in this dark world that doesn't make any sense, the one thing that had made sense was being rolled away on a stretcher, never to be seen again.  _

John woke with a cry and felt his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He took a few deep breaths to steady his heartbeat then glanced at Mary who lay asleep beside him. She hadn't  woken. Good. John settled back down under the covers with a sigh. Ever since Sherlock jumped he'd had bad dreams, nightmares. Ella said that they're natural and will go away in time but John knew that his heart would never stop aching for his lost detective. There was so much he had wanted to say, so much he wanted to do with Sherlock, and now, those chances had been robbed from him. 

John sat up again, unable to sleep and quietly slid from under the covers. Slipping on jeans and a t-shirt and went downstairs and stepped out into London. He hailed a cab and found himself at Sherlock's grave. He collapsed in front of the sharp black headstone and hung his head as the tears came. 

“Why couldn't I save you?” John asked the ground. “Why didn't you tell me what was going on? I could have helped.” John let the tears slide off his chin and he shut his eyes with a sad sigh. “I thought you and I would always be together, that nothing could separate us. But now that you're gone I…” John trailed off and cleared his throat. “I miss you Sherlock.” He whispered. “Come back to me. Please. I need you Sherlock. I…I love you.” John swallowed hard after those last three words. “I told you about Mary right? She's come with me a few times to visit you. I'm going to ask her to marry me, well I was going to. I don't know if I should. I don't love her like I love you Sherlock. It's different. It's not a true feeling. But I can't go on in life alone anymore. I can't wake up in an empty flat, I have to have someone, I just wish it was you.” John stayed there for 20 more minutes without saying anything, just silently crying, his hand on the headstone, tracing Sherlock’s name. “Don't. Be. Dead.” John cried after a long time. “Just for me. Please.” After that John stood up, brushed off his trousers and headed out of the graveyard. He wandered aimlessly through the streets of London, spotting places he and Sherlock had solved crimes, reminiscing in a chase that had happened so long ago in an alley. It felt like years and years ago that Sherlock had been beside John, when really it was just about two. John knew he had to move on, he had to let Sherlock go. 

So he purchased a ring and made a reservation at a restaurant. There he took Mary. He played with the box while he waited for her to come back from the restroom when she did he glanced at her, his eyes shining and he smiled. “Mary,” he began. “As you know these past two years haven't been easy for me, but you were the best thing that happened to me.” 

“I agree.” 

“Sorry?”

“I'm the best thing that could have happened to you.” She paused. “Sorry go on.” 

“So if you'll have me Mary. Could you see your way…” John paused. The waiter was being very loud and obnoxious beside him and he finally turned to him gruffly. “We didn’t order any……” he stopped, that face. That man. John blinked, his thoughts scrambling in his brain. 

“Funny thing a tuxedo.” Sherlock said. He said more but John was too busy getting his head around the fact that Sherlock was standing in front of him. 

John stood ignoring Mary's slight urgent warning of “John.”

“Two years.” John slammed his fist on the table breathing hard.

“Oh no you're..” Mary started. 

“Oh yes.” Sherlock confirmed. 

“But you're dead you died.”

“No I'm not. Quite sure. I checked.” He dipped Mary's napkin in her water and wiped off his mustache. “Does yours rub off too?” He asked lightheartedly. 

“One word Sherlock. That's all I would have needed. One word to know that you were still alive.” John snapped. 

“Now before you do something you might regret let me ask one question. Are you really gonna keep that?” Without a seconds delay John had leaped on Sherlock his anger driving him. Sherlock hit the floor hard, John clambered on top of him, his hands reaching for his throat, and then people were dragging him away from Sherlock and John collapsed shaking and crying. “Two years.” He muttered. They got kicked out of the restaurant of course and when they went to a smaller cafe John headbutted Sherlock and left angrily in a cab, where Mary told him she liked Sherlock and he was left to ponder those thoughts. 

Years passed. John had been married and he had become a widower in a short amount of time, unfortunately his daughter Rosie was taken away from him because child services thought the environment he lived in was too dangerous for a child. John had thrown a fit, they were probably right, he loved Rosie yes, but he never would have been able to take care of her. Now John sat with Sherlock in their nicely refurbished living room and the silence was eating away at the daylight. 

“So.” John said quietly.

“So.” Sherlock replied.

“It’s back to solving cases like old times.” John said.

“Only if you want to.” Sherlock said cautiously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked.

“I just..i just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep living with me. If it weren’t for me you would still have your wife, your daughter, your entire life..I just….” Sherlock trailed off his eyes misting. 

“Hey,” John sat up and reached out a hand to pat Sherlock on the leg, “I chose this life. I could have left the first day I met you, but I didn’t. I stayed right here, I’m not going anywhere.” John’s hand was still on Sherlock’s knee and Sherlock slowly covered John’s hand with his own. 

“Thank you.” Sherlock whispered, he looked up, tears welling in his blue eyes. “For everything John. Just everything.” 

“Hey,” John slid off his chair and pulled Sherlock into a hug. “Sherlock, I will always be here for you.” 

“I know John. I don’t know what I did to deserve as good a friend as you.” Sherlock closed his eyes and buried his head in John’s shoulder. “I was so alone, and I owe you so much.” Sherlock said softly around his tears. 

John felt his own eyes prick with the wetness of tears, “Oh Sherlock.” He pulled him tighter into the hug. 

“I love you too John.” Sherlock said. 

John nearly pulled away in shock but instead he stayed in Sherlock’s arms. “You heard that.” 

Sherlock didn’t answer right away but he gave John a little squeeze. “No, Mycroft showed me a tape. He kept tabs on you.. I know you hate that kind of thing but he had to..for when I came back...and he showed me that one before I went to meet you in the restaurant and…” Sherlock never finished that sentence because John had pulled away from him slightly enough for him to press a kiss to Sherlock’s soft lips. “John.” Sherlock whispered when they pulled apart.

“It’s always been you Sherlock.” John said. “I’ve always only loved you.  _ I  _ was so alone, and I owe  _ you  _ so much. I owe you my life Sherlock. My life was nothing without you in it. When you...when you jumped, Sherlock that was the worst day of my entire life. I wondered what had driven you, why you had left, if it was me, why couldn’t I have stopped you? Why did you---

Sherlock broke John off just as John had interrupted Sherlock, with a kiss. “Stop talking would you.” Sherlock grinned. 

John smiled back and kissed Sherlock again. Everything was blissful. The sun was shining, the person he loved most was sitting on the floor of their flat kissing him, they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. John wasn’t alone anymore, Sherlock was his light, his company, he was all he needed. John could be alone if he had Sherlock, and Sherlock wasn’t going anywhere ever again that John wouldn’t follow.   


End file.
